cried Mrs. Prescott, joining in the
laugh at this nonsense. Uncle Thomas looked amused but puzzled, hardly
certain whether to believe there was an element of truth in this
rigmarole or not. He glanced from Mrs. Prescott to Alma, to Nancy, and
there he paused. He was a good enough reader of faces to know now
where the wind lay, and his eyes grew sober.

"Well, my dear little niece, you're pretty young," he said gently, "but
one is never too young to be happy. What do you think, Lallie?"

Mrs. Prescott smiled, although there were tears in her eyes, and said:

"Ask Nancy, Uncle Thomas."

"Well, Nancy?"

Nancy tried to laugh, as she took her mother's hand and Alma's, and
faltered again:

"I--I don't know."

But here we, who can see into the minds of all these people, have no
hesitation about saying in just so many words, that she did know very
well; only she didn't know that she knew.

* * * * *

The "Ogre" had sent a note to his nieces, asking them for dinner on a
certain June evening. And strange to relate it was Nancy who delayed
the proceedings. When she finally joined her admiring family she was
deliciously conscious that a dress of pale gold-colored organdie, and a
broad-brimmed hat trimmed with delicate blue flowers, were about the
most becoming things she could possibly wear. And she was not entirely
ignorant of the fact that she could be very, very pretty when she
wanted to. It was pleasant to register this interesting fact on other
people also, Miss Bancroft and the Ogre, and--well, George Arnold, for
instance.

It was partly on account of the gathering darkness, no doubt, or partly
because Alma wanted to look at the summer-house while Nancy and George
wanted to continue to look at the roses, but however it was--well,
there they were--Mr. Arnold and Miss Prescott, absorbedly looking at
the roses. Or perhaps they weren't even looking at the roses.

"Now, look here, Nancy, if you'll be a good girl, and say what I tell
you to, I'll give you something nice. It's not a candy, either."

"Wh-what do you want me to say?" gasped Nancy, suddenly feeling quite
terrified.

"First of all, put your hand in mine, so," he took her hand gently, and
then lifted it to his lips. "And now say--'I love you, George!'"

"Oh--I c-can't!" whispered Nancy, feebly.

"Yes, you can. Try it, dear."

"Well, don't you, Nancy?" For the first time he sounded very grave,
and his eyes looke